Fear Not The Flames
by The Clown King Of Chaos
Summary: The Age of Fire is ending. The Lords of Cinder have risen from their graves, and their mighty souls give way to chaos and war between the DWMA, Witches, and Hollows
1. The Beginning Of The End?

**Opening Notes: Here's an idea that's been resting on the table for a while. It was originally going to be titled "Drawn Like Moths" but my good friend mordreek reasoned it was too vague, so we went with something a little more direct (I also considered going with "Dark Eater" as a joke). Incidentally, we will be essentially throwing the Dark Souls timeline to the wind, which wasn't all that hard to do story-wise, what with half of the answers being lore and Soul Eater not exactly having a solid temporal placement itself. Also, this is admittedly a short chapter because it is really more for setup than anything. And finally, we will _not_ be using the Shakespeare dialect for anybody, as it was an extra burden for mordreek on another project he partook in and I can't work the lingo to save my life.**

 _ **Chapter One: The Beginning Of The End?**_

 **XXXXXX**

"Seek strength. The rest will follow."

 **XXXXXX**

Blair liked her new home. It was nice having people around, and a boy to tease was a nice bonus. And Death City was absolutely a step up. The sun had yet to shine but she had no qualms about early risings. Especially if it meant free food. Being a cat meant most people adored her if she happened upon them. Just the other day, a shopkeep had given her a nice juicy fish.

As she licked her lips, looking forward to what today might hold, a noise filled her ears. The deep chiming of a massive bell. She looked up and around. There wasn't a church or bell tower anywhere. The few people out on the streets this early in the morning were glancing around, apparently also hearing it. After about a minute it stopped.

The humans merely shrugged it off and went off, leaving her alone; stranger things happened on a daily basis in their city. As the cat sat on the sidewalk, lost as to what happened, another unexplainable event unfolded. Down the road, an orange fog filled the street a second before dissipating, and what had been empty space a moment was now occupied by someone struggling to make their way to wherever they were going.

"Am I too late already?" The question had been asked to nobody, and its owner sounded like a man with an ageless voice. He stared at the starry night sky for a moment before returning focus to his path.

He was a sight to behold. He had to be at least eight feet tall and was fully armored. His helmet looked like a snarling lion and had a red plume coming out of the back. His black metal suit looked worn, as if he'd been in a marathon of wars. The most unsettling detail was that he was holding a spear that was easily as tall as he was, and judging by his demeanor, he wasn't exactly playing with a full deck.

"It's happening," he mumbled, barely keeping himself standing, let alone walking. Any passerby would have passed him off as severely hungover. "The Bells toll, the fire fades. We don't have much time... before the Lords are lost."

He either didn't notice her, or just did not care enough to acknowledge her presense as he nearly stepped on her, making his way down the streets. She would have gotten mad at him, but clearly something was wrong with him.

He went about three more steps, and then he haulted. He stood perfectly still for a moment, and raised his right foot into the air and brought it down with such force the sidewalk cracked. Turning his boot side to side a few times, he seemed satisfied with his actions and resumed on his way, muttering to himself "I hate those filthy things. Hate her..."

Making sure he got enough distance between them, Blair crept forward to where he had assaulted the ground, and discovered he had simply crushed a spider, the cracks from the impact making a strangely fitting web around what remained of it.

 **XXXXXX**

In a cemetery that was either separated, or just unseen, it was unclear, by the world at large, a Hollow that had long since lost its memory and humanity, aimlessly wandered before the tolling of the Bells began. The sound, and what it meant, didn't concern it, but then its instincts hiked up. It could feel, even practically smell, a soul near. Its animalistic disposition lead it to a coffin, unmarked and unbothered for who knows how long. As the Bells continued on, the creature went to opening the box containing its prize. The top was a stone slab that it pushed on with all its strength, needing to feast upon the soul within. Just as it managed to remove the barrier, pushing it off over the far side of the coffin, an armored arm shot up. In the hand was a knife, which was now lodged between the Hollow's eyes. All movement ceased until the hand let go of its meager blade and the creature fell to the ground, the tatters of its soul floating into the occupant of the coffin. The formerly deceased, now Unkindled human pushed himself up, completely unsure of where he was but positive that he wished to be confined no longer.

With that goal achieved, his mind was free to race and panic.

"Where am I? **Who** am I?!" He panted like a dog as he forcibly removed his helmet and gripped the sides of his head, forcing himself to think. But it was to no avail. He couldn't remember anything except his name. Not where he came from, how he had passed, or even why he had been buried with a sword that was covered in what he could only assume was frost. Realizing that going into a mental frenzy wasn't going to solve anything, he hoisted himself up and out of his resting place. Putting a boot on the Hollow's neck, he bent down and wrapped his fingers around the knife's handle. Getting a decent grip, he yanked it out of the poor creature's skull. He looked at his waist, and saw that unlike the icy sword, the knife didn't seem to have a scabbard. Had it been thrown into his coffin right before he was buried? He thought of tossing it away, but seeing as he didn't have a sheild and an empty hand was a waste in battle, decided to keep it for the time being. He looked down to himself again, taking note that he had been buried in sleek, shiny, form-fitting armor. Turning his wrist, he became aware of two rings on his gauntlet, one each on his middle and index finger. They looked to be adorned with... eyes, black and focused on him, as if waiting for him to do something moronic. Where had they come from, and why did he feel this urge to keep them on despite the fact they sent chills down his spine? Whatever answer there was, he wasn't going to find it standing around.

Freed from his confines and back on his feet with only one way to go, the Unkindled put his helmet back on and began on what would prove to be a long, perilous journey.

 **XXXXXX**

Medusa Gorgon was, more or less, a Witch of science. Most things had an explainable answer. But when the ringing of what she assumed were church bells filled her eardrums, she couldn't rationalize it, since she and her companion weren't anywhere near anything that could be the source of the noise. She looked out the window of their current haven, seeing the sun rising, and her partner staring at the horizon. As usual, he had his armor on, concealing every inch of his flesh.

"I can hear it too." His voice was loud, but calm. He didn't look back at her, and considered the situation that was upon them. He was aware as the Snake Witch closed the gap between them.

"What's happening, Raime?" She asked with potent interest. She had heard the legends but desired to have a solid answer.

The Fume Knight reached forward, grasping the hilt of his partially buried greatsword, and with a determined pull, unearthed it. "The past is about to come back. Powerful souls are returning to their precious Flames." He shouldered the massive weapon. "We must bolster ourselves. Prepare for the worst."

 **XXXXXX**

"It's starting." The Dragonslayer kept himself standing by grasping the top of one of the headstones. He still had yet to regain the energy he had lost earlier, so it was fortunate he was in a safe place, Lord Death's seemingly infinite chambers. They called Ornstein "old." He understood why. He had walked the planet for ages, seen kingdoms rise and fall, and witnessed Gwyn set himself alight in the Kiln. And now, here he was, watching as the Flame faded. He, Lord Death, descendant of Nito, and whoever else had annticipated this hadn't been looking forward to it. Lords of Cinder rising from their graves, but not Linking the Flame as they had been chosen to. Evil and blackness had poisoned the land, the Curse had spread, as had Embers. The clock of the Age of Fire was reaching midnight. Whether or not it would strike, or be turned back remained to be seen. "I guarantee the Lords of Cinder have already awoken and are retreating to their domains."

"I agree," Lord Death nodded. "And it won't be long until the Witches figure out what is going on."

"Not to mention the Hollows, lucid or otherwise. And all the Unkindled rising from their graves. If something isn't done, a lot more Kishins are going to be around." He let go of the grave marker, feeling himself get back to one hundred percent. "It is nothing to panic over. The Flames have only just begun to flicker. We have months, perhaps even a year before the real trouble starts. Still, based on what I have seen in the past, we should rally and prepare."

 **XXXXXX**

The Ashen One's location was mountainous, figuratively and literally. When he reached a ledge (after dealing with a few more Hollows) he saw nothing but the sort as far as his eyes could. However, a fair distance away, he spied a building. A safe haven? Perhaps somebody was within, and they could shed some light on his situation. It wasn't like he had anywhere else to work off of.

A decent trek and even more Hollows later, he came to a massive door. Pushing it open was, to his surprise, easy. Stepping through, he found himself in a level area. In the middle was what he assumed to be a statue of a genuflecting man, and at the far end was another door. As he made his way across the plateau, he stopped at the statue. Something, he didn't know what, told him there was something more to this than met the eye. It was as if a thought that was not his had gotten into his mind. The halberd next to it gave off a cautionary air. And then he saw the sword in the thing's chest. Who ever had hammered it must have had a most steady hand, as its blade, rather than flat and broad, was a coil.

 _Pull it. Take it._

That unknown thought kept repeating over and over again. On some sort of instinct, he brought his arm up and had an impromptu staring contest with his rings for a moment. With a shrug of his shoulders, he reached down and grabbed the handle. With a mighty heave, it began to give way. But as it did, the Unkindled's eyes widened in shock. Blood, torrents of it, coming out as he gradually removed the sword. Before he knew it, he had completely Freed the blade from what he now realized was a man. And said man, all eleven feet of him, stood up and grabbed the halberd next to him.

The Unkindled One's right eye twitched. "I've made a huge mistake."

"I am Iudex Gundyr," he stated with a deep booming voice, not at all affected by the gaping wound in his torso.

The Unkindled stood up straight. "And _I_ am... actually, I don't know."

The behemoth apparently did not concern himself with the Ashen One's amnesia as he raised his blade. "Prepare yourself."

The Unkindled One's pupils constricted, realizing what was about to happen. Warrior instinct kicked in and he rolled away as the halberd came crashing down on the spot he had been not a moment ago. With Gundyr busy with raising his weapon back up, the Unkindled went with his gut and swung the sword he had removed from his opponent. A feat easier said than done. It felt like it weighted as much as the Iudex. His arms felt like they were on fire (a strangely familiar sensation to him), but the effort paid off as the slash miraculously made it between the pieces of Gundyr's armor, cutting him deep.

The judge did respond to this wound, and let out a roar as he swung his blade relentlessly. The Ashen One held up the coiled sword as best he could, and kept it up, blocking the blows. After mere seconds, he felt as if his arms were about to fall right out of their sockets. As the Iudex again prepared a slash aimed right at the Unkindled's head, the latter got an idea. His legs also felt the burning of overuse, but he willed himself to roll once more out of the way, bringing the heavy sword close to him.

The blade of the halberd dug into the earth, and the Ashen One mustered his strength as much as his body would allow, and he thrust the tip of the blade forward, returning it into the very wound he had retrieved it from. Gundyr let out another roar as the steel was embedded in his guts. The Unkindled added to the cacophony and let out an animalistic shout of his own as he forced his legs to move him forward. Slowly but surely, the sword made way deeper and deeper into the towering man. Finally, the hilt itself was touching Gundyr when the undead knight let go. He pushed himself away, his body free from the burden, and breathed deeply. Iudex Gundyr just stood there, unsure of what to make of it all.

Not wanting to hold that blasted weapon any longer, the Unkindled pulled his frost-coated sword out of its scabbard, waiting for whatever was about to happen. Suddenly, a cracking sound filled the air, and Gundyr changed. Black ooze ran down from his head to his waist, thickening and expanding. It grew and grew until the judge's legs were miniscule beneath it all, and it all writhed and formed into a massive serpent with glowing red eyes and razor sharp teeth, with other parts of the slime shaping into tendrils and a claw.

The Ashen One felt himself twitch again. "I think I should crawl back into my grave."

 **XXXXXX**

 **Closing Notes: Yeah some of the silent characters from Dark Souls are going to have dialogue here. And we're changing the combat a little to. I included that "months or a year" line because I do not want this whole thing to focus solely on the Dark Souls half due to strict timetable. I want to include events and elements from Soul Eater as well. And I'm not sure if violence constitutes an M rating, but since it isn't too extreme at the moment, this will be T for now. Lastly, if this left you with unanswered questions, that was my intention. I did not aim to make the first chapter an information bombardment.**


	2. Returns

_**Chapter Two: Returns**_

The Unkindled had not been the sole riser. Even before his slumber had ended, others had seen the sky again as well. If someone had been at the right grave as the Bells rang throughout the air, they would have seen what most people would think to be a mass of semi-hardened dark sludge emerge from a massive sarcophagus. The heap, which was as thick as a truck and had to be at least thirty feet long, writhed and slithered onto the ground, keeping itself together in the shape of what could loosely be described as snake-like. Bones protruded out of it at various spots and it left pieces of itself as it moved itself, getting a feel for itself; being deceased for so long made a body, no matter how grotesque, stiff.

This horrid amalgam was Aldrich. Saint of the Deep, infamous cannibal, and Lord of Cinder. As he crawled, thoughts wandered into his unhinged mind. How long had he been away? What had become of Sulyvahn and the Deacons? And how soon could he be rid of the hunger within his bloated form?

 **XXXXXX**

Somewhere in another time-worn area of the land, a massive plot of land was infested with people awakening from the deepest of slumbers. Each donned armor that had seen countless battles, curved daggers, and greatswords that reeked of blood. Their garb and posture were so akin to each other's that the lot of them were practically indiscernible from one another. None of them were sure just what as happening, but each and every one kept a vice grip on his own blades.

The light. It stung all of their eyes. Being in complete darkness for so long...

Darkness. Black. The Abyss...

With the same thought going through every last conscious mind, each of them shouldered their swords and made off in a blind search.

The Abyss Watchers had returned, and their duty remained.

 **XXXXXX**

Rising out of a coffin the size of a house came a giant, fully armored and wielding a machete the length of a bus. He did not stand up, just sat, using his weapon for balance. Yhorm, ruler of the Profaned Capital looked around as dread filled him. If he was back, then he was undead. And if he was undead, he would go Hollow, which meant he was doomed to lose his mind. And even if he didn't, Lordseekers would come for him, force him on his throne and burn to Link the Flame.

A sliver of his horror went away when, even as the last of his memories faded, one remained. An old friend, who promised to end his misery should he ever return. But even that wasn't solace enough to stop him from letting out a thunderous cry of terror and rage.

 **XXXXXX**

"Ahhhh... ha ha!" The Unkindled knight, winded and sore, held on to his icy sword and collapsed, covered in... whatever that snake had been made of as it retreated back into Gundyr's body, which then collapsed. Mustering what strength he had left, the undead pushed himself onto his back and stared at the sky. Every single one of his muscles felt like they were on fire. A strangely familiar sensation, he had to admit.

He started making a noise that was either laughing or sobbing; it was impossible to tell which. He was alive again, but everything around him apparently found that to be a mistake. As he continued emitting his obscene cacophony, a strange warmth coated him. He slowly silenced himself and began to evenly breath as he realized something. His body felt... amazing. All the pain, the fatigue... it was gone. Bringing up his arm into his line of sight, his eyes widened when they beheld his hand. A thick line of glowing orange was on his armor. Rolling over onto his stomach, he pushed himself back up to his feet, he looked at it again. Still there, glowing like an ember on a flame that refused to die out. He pulled off the gauntlet, revealing his white-as-fresh-snow flesh, it had the same patch as his armor did. He slipped the piece back on and looked down at himself. Various streaks and blotches of the glow was all over him, front and back. That warm feeling was still there, but the orange spots gave off more heat. He didn't know what this meant, or why it had only now happened to him.

"This would have come in handy _**before**_ I won," he mused to himself. But good fortune wasn't to be spat on, so he gathered himself and prodded Gundyr with his boot, making sure he was actually dead. Satisfied with the lack of response from the body, the Unkindled once again made his way. He didn't know the reason why he kept going or why he was doing it. It was as if that whisper from earlier was silent, but its affect was still within him. Pushing the massive doors open and stepping through the stone archway, he saw a massive building not too far off. And seeing what was between him and it made him smile. Hollows. Compared to Gundyr, this would be an enjoyable cakewalk. Letting off steam sounded most fun for him at the moment. He pulled his sword from his scabbard and dashed forward towards the nearest mindless one. Before it could even notice him, it had frosty Titanite in its back. With the blade going in all the to the hilt, the Unkindled One planted his boot into the Hollow's lower back and forced his limb forward, shoving away the staring zombie and freeing his weapon. The Hollow moved no more. With a wicked grin, the knight made for another victim, slashing across its torso.

"If I didn't like killing in my first life, I certainly do now!"

 **XXXXXX**

"I've weighted our possible courses of action," Ornstein said, pacing in front of a mirror that showed not his reflection, but Lord Death. "And the best place to start is Lothric Castle. We don't know where the Lords will retreat to, but that's where they converged and were buried."

"I agree," Lord Death nodded. "But I hope you don't intend on going alone."

"Artorias is lost. Gwyn's children have their own concerns. Vendrick is, well, he's best left alone. The Death Scythes are keeping a panic from spreading. My old teacher will most likely not involve himself with this. And Smough isn't answering any of my calls or letters."

"All excellent points, but I think I know somebody who can still help. He was supposed to start at the Academy tomorrow, but I believe he'll be willing to postpone another day for something this dire."

The Dragon Slayer jumped to a conclusion. "I am having a bit of an ethical dilemma with bringing a youngling with me to an overrun castle."

"Oh but I'm talking about an ordinary child. You've been gone for such a long time time, I don't think you know I have a son now."

That statement made Ornstein stop dead in his tracks and look over his shoulder with an impressed look behind his helm. "So the Gravelord line continues. Congratulations."

"Thank you. If you'll excuse me, I'll talk with him and get back to you in just a minute."

 **XXXXXX**

With no Hollows left, the Unkindled made his way to the opening of the building. Within the first steps past it, he could tell this was a Shrine, and one of massive importance. Five huge thrones were on the opposite end of the chamber, all of them empty. Down the stone steps he went, toward the center. Next to a pile of kindling was a woman, dressed in black with pale blonde hair. Male instinct kicked in and he removed his helmet and attempted to make himself more presentable, not that there was much he could do with the time he had before they officially met.

"Welcome to the bonfire, Unkindled One." She didn't even turn around to face him until he had closed the gap between them. And when she did, he was surprised by her facial jewelry. It looked like a tiara, but rather than her forehead, it rested across her eyes, making him assume she was blind. "I am a Fire Keeper."

"Uh... pleased to meet you." He was uncertain how to respond to that. He had never heard of Fire Keepers... at least he thought he didn't. The past was such a fog to him still.

"I tend to the flame, and tend to you." Her tone was a strange, almost paradoxical mix of casual and professional. "The Lords have left their thrones, and must be delivered to them."

He wasn't sure why she was telling him that information. "Is that what's going on?" He didn't ask her so much as he did himself.

"To this end, I am at your side."

"This end?" He repeated, lost. Was that the reason he had come back? To find these Lords and force them back here?

The Fire Keeper, obviously not seeing the confused look on his face, gestured to the ringed kindling.

"Produce the Coiled Sword at the bonfire. The mark of Ash will guide you to the land of the Lords."

She would have continued on but he cut her off. "Wait, produce the what?"

"The Coiled Sword." She tilted her head in confusion. "Surely when you defeated Iudex Gundyr, you came into possession of it."

His pupils constricted as he realized what he had left in his foe's intestine, and he slapped his hand to his forehead. "Gwyn damn it! I'll be right back."

As he ran up the stairs and out the entrance, he failed to notice that his initial visual intake of the thrones was inaccurate. A small, apparently legless Lord of Cinder silently observed the newly revived Unkindled man sprint off.

 **XXXXXX**

Ornstein waited outside the designated area Lord Death had instructed him to. Gallows Mansion was pleasing to the eye. Pristine almost to a fault. He looked at the upper half, wondering just how the architecture worked. He thought back to the old days of dwellings and towers going straight up and out. Well, mostly. The Cathedral was a sight to behold. And all those statues. And wherever the gods visited.

"That _has_ to be him."

He was absorbed in memories that he hadn't heard the door to the Manor open nor the trio approaching him. Two young women in red shirts and a teenage boy on the short end between them, who smiled as they got closer to him.

"Your armor is magnificent!" He proclaimed. "Every protruding spike, every overlapping scale, is perfectly symmetrical on both sides!"

"He looks like a lion!" The shorter of the two girls happily shouted, pointing at his helmet. "Do you roar a lot?"

"No, not really," he answered flatly before returning his attention to the male. "I surmise you are Death the Kid?"

"Indeed I am, Dragon Slayer Ornstein. These are my Death Weapons, Liz and Patty."

"Pleasure to meet all of you." He gave a bow to them. Chivalry was part of being a knight, no matter what. "I must admit, I was slightly shocked when your father told me you said yes to this task."

"It'll be a step up from our last mission," Liz replied. "I'll take a castle over a tomb any day."

"I wonder if we'll destroy the castle too," Patty added.

"Don't remind me!" Lord Death's child whimpered as he stared crestfallen at the ground. "Such a perfect example of architecture, decimated!"

He began sobbing, and Liz began trying to comfort him. Patty, however, still had a great interest in the old knight. She stood right in front of him, standing as tall as she could (barely getting above his waist) and gazing at him. "How do you see out of that?"

"Through here," he answered, tapping the mouth of his helmet. "Peripheral vision is moot, but disciplined senses make up for it." He looked over to the youngest member of Nito's line, and was relieved to see he had regained his bearing. He turned around and began walking. "The sooner we reach Lothric, the less chances our enemy has of getting an advantage. Are you familar with Hollows?"

The silence was answer enough.

 **XXXXXX**

"Okay! Here we go!" The Unkindled panted as he dragged the Coiled Sword down the steps of the Shrine. It made a loud clang with every impact with the stones. The glowing on him evidently helped with energy and durability, but did not add to his strength. Reaching the center once more, he plunged the sword into the circle. Instantly, it and the pile it now rested in burst into flames. Some instinct within him made him reach toward it. He got on his knees and nearly touched the hilt.

Just before he made contact with it, an orange and gold fog burst forth from the fire. He couldn't see the Shrine anymore, but images of places he had both visited and never set foot in raced around in front of him. The area where he'd fought Gundyr, the grave he had crawled out of, and a castle wall he was unfamiliar with. An impulse made him think the wall was where he was supposed to go. A darkness surrounded his vision, leaving him blind. He felt as if he was free falling for a second, before it all stopped and light returned it him. The Shrine was gone. He was in a small room, sunlight bleeding in through the windows. A door was the first thing he focused on. Making sure his sword was still on him, he pushed it open, and gaped by what was on the other side. It was just like the vision in the fog. He was on a castle wall, able to see for miles in either direction. But what was the walkways really caught his attention. More mindless Hollows. How far was this plague's reach? He shrugged it off. After all, he had a newfound duty to fulfill. Fighting with both determination and glee, he was unaware that other lucid beings weren't far behind him.

 **XXXXXX**

 **Closing Notes: There we go. Another chapter complete. Had some fun with this one, trying to add in humor here and there. I'm aiming to give the Unkindled One a personality that's a little different and has less than desirable traits in it. Not sure if the chapters have given this signal, but I don't intend for this tale to be centered around him, but to have many plots about several characters from both halves of the source material.**


	3. (Re)United And It Hurts So Much

**Chapter Three: (Re)United And It Hurts So Much**

 **XXXXXX**

Skipping class. An act that merited punishment at the DWMA, but that didn't matter to BlackStar at the moment. Lord Death's son was enrolling and the attention surrounding his mission at the Anubis tomb was driving the assassin crazy!

"That punk thinks he can outshine me!" He declared out loud, even though the only one around besides him was Soul who was sitting down, leaning on one of the entrances pillars. "I'll teach him a brutal lesson! When he shows up, I'll destroy him!"

"Sounds like a plan," Soul agreed, going along with his friend's scheme. He did not mind cutting class either; Stein was probably just making them all do another dissection. He let out a content sigh, but wondered just where the new kid was. School had started an hour ago...

 **XXXXXX**

"This does not bode well." Ornstein prodded the corpse below him with his spear, making certain it was no more. "Either they're all turning on each other, or we are not alone on these walls." He observed the pathway towards their destination. On it was a wake of blood and cadavers.

"If it's someone else, and they're taking care of these so-called Hollows," Kid spoke up, "couldn't they be on our side of this conflict?"

The Dragon Slayer pondered on that as the four of them made their way. "Possibly. It could be just as likely it's a maniac who enjoys the carnage. I've seen many things and people in my time."

Liz shuddered at the sight of the limp bodies. "These things look like zombies. It's like we walked into a horror movie again."

"Yeah, but its not as bad as the mummies!" Patty said.

Ornstein was concerned. Some of these Hollows, judging by there position, hadn't even attacked. If this was indeed a single being, they were either a sadist or psychotic. Or maybe they just hated Hollows. His trepidation increased when they came upon a dead Wyvern, but it went away when he saw the amount of decay. The creature had left this life some time ago. So the slaughter was confined to humans for the time being.

As the four of them trekked across the roof, someone apparently sane walked towards them, not noticing them as he stared at a key in his left hand. He donned polished armor, and carried an ice-coated sword tightly in his right fingers. He seemed to be having a conversation with himself. "Don't look at me like that. I can't just leave him in there," he said firmly to nobody visible. It wasn't until there was only a three-foot gap between them did he look up and stop.

"It can't be..." Ornstein was nonplussed. "An Outrider, still normal this far from their home?" Then again, there was no guarantee this person was of the Irithyll Elite. Perhaps he had happened upon an Outrider and miraculously slain it, taking its equipment for himself.

"A **what**?" Liz was lost at his words.

"Oh good, you're all still sane." Behind his armor, the undead knight smiled with relief. "I don't mind killing, but the lack of conversation out here was getting to me."

While that statement made the Thompson sisters pale and Kid curious, Ornstein noticed the random patches of orange all across the Knight's body. Ancient magic was at work, but it didn't clear anything up. Kid's Soul Perception, while not at the same level as Stein or Maka, could tell enough to make him aware this man's soul was guarded and old.

"Who are you?"

"I'll be honest, I have no idea." His tone was inordinately casual. "Everyone keeps calling me Ashen One or Unkindled."

That last part made Ornstein's throat close. An Unkindled, a vessel for Souls was among them.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"Well right now," he started, walking past them. "I'm off to free a thief from his cell."

Nobody followed him as he vanished from sight.

If he didn't have his armor on, Ornstein would have stroked his chin in thought. "Well, he didn't try to kill us. In my experience, that makes for a decent if temporary alliance."

"Why would he let a criminal out?" Patty asked her Meister.

"Perhaps he has an overwhelming sense of pity. Or maybe the bars do not have the same diameter or distance between them and the asymmetry is making the poor man crazy."

Liz opted to find answers to more pressing matters and stared at the towering man nest to her. "Okay, a couple quick questions. Who was that, and what's Unkindled?"

Ornstein took a deep breath as he led them to continue on; the Unkindled would surely catch up to them. "I don't know who he was specifically, but he is Unkindled, ash. He failed at some point to Link the First Flame; don't ask, it's too long a story to tell you right now. He died, and now he has risen for a purpose. What that is exactly, I don't know."

"Do you think he knows?" Kid wondered aloud. The knight had admitted he was an amnesiac after all.

"Actually, I do!" The four followers of Lord Death turned to see the Outrider running back towards them.

"Where's the crook you said you were gonna spring?" Patty asked.

"Greirat? Oh, he left," the Unkindled answered simply. "Back to the Shrine, I'd guess."

The three soon-to-be DWMA students wordlessly decided not to ask what he meant.

"And as for why I'm back on this plain of existence, the Fire Keeper told me I'm to find the Lords of Cinder, whatever those are, and take them back to their thrones. So if you'll excuse me." He again walked past them and continued on.

Though none of them noticed it, the Dragon Slayer's stance went from tense to relieved. This was perfect! A Lordseeker, seemingly content with his duty, and they had found him before the Witches. Perhaps fate didn't hate them after all.

"This guy has no idea what context is, does he?" Liz asked rhetorically as they followed him. His answers had given them even more questions.

All of them continued to follow him for the time being as he strolled past his warpath, eventually making it to ground level where scores of armored bodies littered the ground.

"For The record, I didn't do this," the undead said over his shoulder. "However, _that one_ ," he gestured to a heavily armored being that was vastly taller than even Ornstein and had an axe as big as a telephone pole. "He was still around and he hit like a..." He paused to think of a good analogy.

"A truck?" Patty offered.

"A what?"

"A steel carriage that does not require horses to move," Ornstein explained in a away the ancient knight could understand.

Behind his helmet, the Unkindled One was dumbfounded, but shrugged it off a moment later. "Anyway, this about where I found that key and turned back to liberate poor Greirat, and you all know the rest."

Ornstein stepped in front of him and took in the options. To the right, the stone steps went upward, leading to two patrolling knights and a massive doorway. The left presented two ways. A staircase that led to an elevator; that wouldn't help them, the lift would just take them back to where they started. The steps beyond the staircase went down towards more Hollows and an archway that blocked his view from what was behind it.

"We shall go that way," Ornstein stated, using his spear to point left. "Towards the inner workings of the castle. If the Lords are here, they will have fortified themselves deep within."

"That makes sense," Kid agreed as Liz and Patty turned into their Weapon forms, landing in their Meister's hands.

The Ashen One gaped at them. "How- what- they... **what?** "

"You have been resting for a long time. Some of humanity has changed," Ornstein explained.

The Unkindled just looked on as Death the Kid made his way forward towards the knights. They didn't even motive him before bursts of his Soul Wavelength collided with them, causing them confusion and great pain. Whilst the future Reaper dealt with the Lothric guards, the Slayer and former Outrider just watched. Ornstein knew Lord Death's son was mote than capable in this fight, and the Ashen One was flabbergasted.

"So... those two young women... can transform into... catalysts for sorceries?" He tried to wrap his head around the whole idea.

"Not exactly. When we're done here, I'll give you a quick history lesson." A realization struck him. "We haven't been properly introduced yet."

"Well, don't wait for me. As I said before, I'm clueless to my own identity. But don't let drag it all down," he said with a jovial inflection. It was as if he didn't care who he was, so long has he was breathing.

"I see. Well, I am Ornstein. The symmetry-obbsessed young man is called Death the Kid. And his Weapons you've acquainted with are Elizabeth and Patricia."

"Well, nice to meet all of you. Wait, _Death the Kid?"_ That name seemed rather peculiar.

Ornstein nodded as the two of them began forward. Kid had nearly effortlessly disposed of them.

"One wielded a lance and the other a sword," he said with potent disgust. "They could at least be as consistent with their weapons as they are with their armor."

"You won, that's all at matters at the moment," Ornstein reasoned.

"And you put them out of their asymmetrical misery," a disembodied, slightly distorted voice added.

"Who said that?" The Ashen One looked around.

Ornstein lead the cabal towards the massive doorway and explained. "Weapons can still talk even when assuming their, well, weapon form."

The Outrider silently looked at the metallic instruments of war in the boy's hands. Stepping out of the sunlight and into the expansive chamber, the five of them found it to be occupied solely by a woman sitting in a chair on the far side of the room. She looked at them and smiled.

"Ahh, the wait has been long, Unkindled One." The aforementioned pointed to himself and mouthed 'me?' Apparently, to her the other four did not concern her. "I am Emma, High Priestess of Lothric Castle."

"Tis a pleasure to make you acquaintance," the Ashen One replied with a bow.

"Allow me to speak frankly." She cut right to the chase as the gap between her and the others closed with every footstep. "You will not find the Lords of Cinder here. They have left, gone."

Ornstein grumbled to himself incoherently.

Emma continued on. "Head to the bottom of the High Wall. Forge on through the great gate, and raise this banner to proceed." She reached into one of the folds of her robes and pulled out a partially tattered flag, handing it to the Lordseeker.

"Thank you." The uncertainty was obvious in his tone as he turned away to leave the Priestess be.

"So now what do we do?" Liz asked as she and her younger sister turned back into their human forms.

"We go down, obviously," the Unkindled knight stated, gesturing to what they all could now see were gigantic wooden doors at the bottom of their path, with only a few Hollows between them. Carefully putting the banner at his feet, he brought his hands to the sides of his helm and lifted it off his head.

His skin was white as fresh snow, and his hair was the color of steel.

"You hail from the Boreal Valley," Ornstein concluded. " Only Irithyllians have such a lack of pigment." His suspicion that this Lordseeker was indeed an Outrider in his first life seemed to be more and more plausible.

The Lordseeker picked up the banner, leaned his head back, and stuffed the cloth into the space between him and his armor. "If you say so," he replied as he put his helmet back on. He then brought his hand up and stared at his knuckles, as if a voice was emanating from them. "Does it matter anymore?" He asked airily.

"Okay, who are you talking to?" Liz asked with a hint of frustration as Patty walked to his side and looked at the same thing he was: two rings decorated with what looked to be black eyes.

"Do they follow you?" She asked, moving her head around to test her question.

Kid also walked to the Unkindled's side, but noticed something else about the haunting jewelry.

"Two of them on one hand, and none on the other?!" He was horrified. "I beseech you, brave Unkindled to move one to the other hand!"

His uncanny request was enoughh to snap the Irithyllian out of his trance. "Are you crazy, or just joking?"

"Believe me, he belongs in a padded cell," Liz answered with a shake of her head.

With a shrug, the five of them made their way down, Ornstein making quick work of the Hollows, using the opportunity to blow off some steam. Along the steps were strange bodies covered in dark blue robes and cloaks with stones chained to their backs. "Pilgrims," Ornstein explained. "Praying for, and granted, a worthy end after a life of servitude."

After a minute, they walked through an archway and reached the doors to find they were stuck shut, covered in thick Crimson vines.

"An easily surmounted obstacle," Ornstein said with a hint of boredom as his spear crackled with electricity. As he reared his trademark weapon back, the air all around them seemed to hiss and drop in temperature.

The Unkindled looked back and saw thick, almost black fog had rolled in. "Something tells me those roots weren''t meant to stop us."

The others turned around in time to see something the size of an elephant emerge from the mist. It walked on all fours like an animal, fully armored, and holding a giant mace in its left hand.

Without needing to be told, the sisters transformed into pistols and landed in Kid's hands. Ornstein kept his spear charged with lightning, but the Unkindled once more stared at his rings, a veneer of confusion on him. This creature seemed familiar to him. Without warning, the eyes' pupils dilated, and his mind was bombarded with images of things and places he could not remember ever seeing, noises that burned him to the soul. A recurring sight was that of a towering man whose face was hidden by a hood who grasped a greatsword in both hands, one aflame and ghe other glowing a brilliant violet. The Ashen One forced his helmet off, gripped the sides of his head, and let out an inhuman scream. As he filled the area with his audible torment, the hulking creature let out a roar, and slammed its weapon into the ground.

"Looks like you'll be able to collect a Soul on this outing after all," the Dragon Slayer shouted to Kid as he unleashed a bolt at the beast, phasing it but not stopping it.

"And I will enjoy doing so," he responded, disgusted with the creature's chaotic movement and appearance.

"It doesn't look like our new friend isn't going to be much help," Liz said. Sure enough, the Unkindled was moaning in pain with his fingers digging into his scalp.

"Just make sure he stays in one piece!" Ornstein ordered as he charged towards their opponent.

With the Slayer keeping the abomination busy, Kid opened fire, a myriad of concentrated bolts of his Wavelength colliding on it. Ornstein, seeing stabbing and slashing would not do much against armor, he kept himself a few paces away and utilized more bolts and Miracles than he usually did in a fight. This freak was durable. If they were wearing it down, it was hiding that fact well. Swinging its right arm, it knocked Ornstein away and into the wall. Quickly closing the distance between itself and Kid, and raised its mace into the air. Seeing what it intended to do, the son of Lord Death rolled away just as the barbaric weapon slammed into the floor, sending up chunks of stone.

Taking the opportunity, Ornstein leaped into the air, landed on the beast's back, and thrust the metal of his spear in between crooks of its armor, and sent a bolt forth onto it, making the thing convulse and growl. The ancient Slayer onto the ground as the beast again slammed its mace into the ground. It raised its head and let out a bellowing roar. It's eyes glowed cobalt and it charged like a freight train towards Kid. The progeny of death again dodged, but barely got out of the way in time. He looked to the side and saw the Unkindled leaning on the wall, obviously still in tremendous pain. At least he wasn't screaming anymore

"We need a new strategy," he mused to himself. He knew of a way to best this behemoth, but he'd need time. "Can you keep that thing off me for a while!?" He shouted over to Ornstein.

"I can certainly try!" He called back, throwing more bolts at their foe, making it ignore the Meister.

Death the Kid focused, and felt his very Soul expanding.

"Soul Resonance," he and his Weapons spoke in perfect unison. Three needle formed on both of his as the pistols in his hands became pure light and expanded past his hands and up to his elbows, solidifying into cannons.

"Execution Mode ready," he stated with dire seriousness.

"Resonance stable," Liz said with the same tone as her Meister. "Noise at three point zero percent."

"Black Needle Soul Wavelength fully charged!" Patty was starting to have fun in this battle.

Liz continued. "Six seconds to feedback."

As they adjusted their posture, the Unkindled knight was finally free of his torment. Feverishly shaking his head to recall where he was, his eyesight regained focus and he heard people counting down.

Ornstein continued keeping the monster focused on him as he too heard the numbers going towards zero. Having a rough idea of what was about to happen, he tossed one final bolt directly at the beast's eyes, stunning it. He quickly put some distance between him and the target.

Kid aimed both cannons at their foe. "Death Cannon."

A blinding light came forth from his weapons and it condensed into a massive bolt, soaring towards the blinded monster.

The blast met its target, sending it flying back into the wall. It went down, unmoving and silent. Rather than the body turning to black ribbons as the majority of them were accustomed to, the thing's body just... vanished, slowly disappearing like fog lifting until all that was left was its soul.

"Well that was interesting," Kid panted as the soul floated into the firearm that was Liz, thus evening them out from the Pyramid mission, giving him much relief. He let go of his Weapons and they returned to their human forms. Sunlight flooded into the room. The three of them looked and saw the red vines had retreated and the doors were opening, revealing a cliff, and in the distance, what looked to be a settlement.

"That is one less problem we will have to deal with in the future." Ornstein brushed himself off. "Say, where is the Lordseeker?"

The four of them quickly noticed that he had retrieved his helmet and was on the edge of the drop-off, holding up the banner Emma had given him.

"Thanks for the help back there," Liz sarcastically said to him.

My sincerest apologies," he genuinely said over his shoulder. "My mind was assaulted. I couldn't think, let alone fight."

"Perhaps it was latent trauma from your death," Ornstein hypothesized. Before that theory could be discussed any further, screeching filled the air. Flying up to them came horrid creature that made Liz want to scream. They were reminiscent of harpies. The sight of them put most in a battle stance, but they did not attack. Rather, they extended their arms, as if offering something.

"Oh I see," the Ashen One mused. "They're to take me down there." He pointed to the village far below them.

"You won't find the Lords down there," Ornstein argued. "Not in something so... open. They'll be in fortresses, protected in their lairs."

"Aye, but since none of us know where any of those are, this seems as good a place as any to start. You do it your way, I'll do it mine." Before anybody could argue, he raised his arm, and the winged creatures grabbed him, lifting him up and then flying down the half destroyed bridge.

"Should we follow him?" Patty asked.

"If so, getting down there won't be a problem for us." Kid raised his hand, and from it a pink glow came forth, a bolt of energy slithered out of his palm and expanded until a skateboard had manifested. He looked up at Ornstein. "But I'm not sure Beelzebub can support your weight."

"That won't be an issue. You three follow him, tell him where to find Death City. His duty coincides with our own. After telling him where to find us, return home. We've done our job. We had to check if the Lords were at this castle, and they aren't." Reaching into the folds of his black armor, he pulled a small bone. Crushing it in his hands, he too began to vanish. "Homeward Bone," he explained while he was still present. "Old pieces of magic to send a user back to where they belong." As soon as the last word was off his lips, he was gone.

Meanwhile, on the bridge, the Irithyll native had made his way down a set of stairs and was currently traipsing past a few Hollow hounds who were preoccupied with their current meal. He had seen a gate, but something made him go the other way towards the end of the bridge that was still standing. On it was more of those Pilgrims, all deceased and in a praying stance towards the castle. A smelled filled the air. It was not of death, but some strange incense. As he made his way through the bodies, respectful enough not to disrupt their final position, he heard something. It was not that guttural grunting of Hollows, but weeping.

"Please, grant me death. Undo my shackles."

The Unkindled made his way through the makeshift maze, closing in on the source of despair. He found it to be another Pilgrim, but still alive and so wrapped up in his anguish that he didn't notice the other living being right behind him. "Are you... alright?"

That caught the robed one's attention. Using his staff, he hoisted himself up and turned around. "Ohh… Ohh, then it's true… A Champion of Ash, as I live and breathe."

Champion? That was a new one to the Irithyllian. Unknown to either of them, a certain trio was quietly watching their exchange.

"To be in your presence is a great honour," the hunched man continued. "I am Yoel of Londor, a Pilgrim as you can see, only…Somehow, I've failed to die as was ordained. Well..." He looked around to his fellows. "... perhaps my calling lies elsewhere." He returned his attention to the knight with a newfound hope in his voice. "Say, Champion of Ash, how does the idea of taking me into your service strike you? I was once a sorcerer. Surely I can be of use."

The Champion (he silently admitted that was one of the more uncomfortable titles people had given him so far) was at a loss for words. It was a massive offer. He felt strange of someone swearing to just blindly follow him. But at the same time, he could not just leave Yoel here to wait for death, could he?

The Ashen One came to his discision. "If that is truly what you want, I accept your offer."

"Ohh. I am honoured, truly. I should be dead, yet you have granted me purpose anew. I, Yoel of Londor, do solemnly swear myself to you."

"Do you know how to reach Firelink Shrine?" The Unkindled asked.

"Is that where you consider your home to be? Yes, I can find it." With a bow and a gust of wind, Yoel faded away.

The Unkindled gazed at the spot his follower had occupied not a moment ago, perplexed at how this day was going. Turning around, he saw Death the Kid and his female companions staring at him.

"You three move quickly. I admire that," he said with a authentic friendliness. He liked their company and their eccentricities. "So you've opted to join me on this trek?"

"Not exactly," Kid replied. "We just wanted to let you know where to find us."

"For another future team-up!" Patty proclaimed with her usual jovial attitude.

"Yes, one of those," Kid continued. "Our goal and yours both involve finding the Cinder Lords."

"I see," the Champion of Ash nodded. "The more, the merrier!"

 **XXXXXX**

 **"WHERE THE HELL IS HE!?"** BlackStar shouted with his fists in the air. "I've been waiting out here for hours!" He brought his arms down and calmed partially. "I know, he must have heard I'd be here waiting for him! He probably didn't want to get crushed under my heel! That's it, yeah!"

"Yeah, that is definitely it." Soul's voice was sardonic and bored. Class would be out soon and they had done nothing the whole time. He was ready to get up and head home, maybe barricade himself in his room to spare himself a lecture from Maka.

Just as he got himself standing, something made both him and BlackStar freeze. It was transparent person, slowly becoming solid right in front of them. He towered over them, wearing black armor with a helmet that looked like a snarling lion. In his hands was a spear that was even taller than he was. When he was fully there, he nodded at them and began walking towards the Academy's doors.

"Hey!" BlackStar pointed at him, making the stranger stop and look over his shoulder at him. "Are you the new kid everybody is talking about?!"

"No. I'm not." He answered as if it was the most ridiculous question he had ever been asked.

Soul's curiosity got to him. "Then just who are you?"

"I am Ornstein, Slayer of Dragons and confidant to Lord Death, who I happen to have business with at this time." He made to keep on walking, but the amateur assassin again raised his voice.

"Hold it! I waited all day out here for nothing, and I'm itching for a fight!"

"Then go to another student." Ornstein was losing patience.

"Ha! None of them can hold a candle to me! I'm basically a god!"

The Dragon Slayer scoffed and turned back towards the doors.

BlackStar growled under his breath, "Don't you dare ignore me." Coming to a brash discision, he ran forward and delivered a kick to Ornstein's back, making him stumble forward.

As soon as he regained his balance, the spear became coated in what looked like black fog. He turned around, his voice dripping. "Okay, little guy..."


	4. Think Of Me

**Opening Notes: Huge thank you to Bylackbre who was a massive help with the plans for this tale down the road, and who also wrote the last portion of this installment.**

 **XXXXXX**

 **Chapter Four: Think Of Me**

The Unkindled let out a sigh as he strolled through Firelink Shrine. Those Bones came in handy with getting home. He would rest up, then continue searching the Undead Settlement. The Fire Keeper still stood near the center, close to the bonfire. Hawkwood still sat down on a set of steps, looking down at the ground with pure dread. The Ashen One could hear the rhythmic clanging of Andre's hammer near the back lower level. He looked towards the five giant thrones, four of which were empty. The second one to the left was occupied by a small, almost insignificant man. Ludleth, he was called, and Lord of Cinder. His presence on his throne made the Champion of Ash's life easier. The Handmaid was, as ever, sitting in her chair. Everyone in their usual spot, except he didn't know where the newest resident was. Yoel the Pilgrim wasn't in his sights. He walked around, looking for the Londor native. It took a minute. But the Unkindled finally happened upon him down a pathway, doing nothing but waiting.

"Oh, our Champion of Ash, welcome home." His tone suggested he was rather happy as the undead knight closed the distance between them. "This pilgrim, with a debt in death, hardly deserves to behold this divine flame." Those words made the Unkindled let out an awkward laugh and shift his footing. "And I never would have, had you not taken me into your service. I thank you dearly for this... And assure you of my leal service."

"You're, uh, very welcome? It's my pleasure?" He did not know how to respond to that. He'd never had direct authority over someone. At least he didn't think he did.

Yoel continued. "As I have said, I was once a sorcerer. Alas, the magic of Londor is a far cry from the wonders of Vinheim." The Unkindled knight did not know what that was, but he did not question it. "But I can teach you what I know. Perhaps more importantly... I believe that I can help tease out your true strength."

"Oh?" The Ashen One raised an eyebrow at that claim. It was most tantilizing.

"We pilgrims of Londor are keenly aware... that those branded by the Darksign possess something quite special..."

"Hhhmmmm..." Darksign? That sounded macabre... but not nearly as much as his death. His follower must have read his decision on his face.

"Then shall we begin?" If his face was visible, chances are he would have been smiling. He offered a hand, and his master did the same. "Bearer of the Darksign, let your true strength shine..."

 **XXXXXX**

"Well, that was an interesting morning," Liz claimed with a tired hint in her voice as the three of them, she and Patty in their Weapon form, flew back towards Death City on Beelzebub.

"Yeah! Fighting zombies and monsters!" Patty loudly agreed.

"Not to mention gaining an ally," Kid smiled as they closed in on the city. "That Unkindled can put up a fight, judging by the wake he left when we arrived, no matter how unbalanced it was.

Liz then took on a cynical inflection. "Let's just hope he doesn't go crazy the next time we're cornered."

Neither of her partners responded to that as they soared over the Academy.

"Hey look! Somebody's fighting!" Patty shouted.

Kid looked down towards the front steps of his father's Institute, and sure enough a brawl was going on. Even from their current altitude, they could tell one participant was Ornstein, although he wasn't using his spear. As they got closer to the ground, Lord Death's son came to recognize not only the Dragon Slayer's opponents, but the small audience that was watching from the fight he and his father had watched together a couple nights ago.

The towering knight was evidently having a match with BlackStar and Soul Evans, and winning, while Professor Stein (sitting in his rolling chair), Maka Albarn, and Tsubaki Nakatsukasa watched.

 **XXXXXX**

The Unkindled One curled his fingers into a fist as he walked over the settlers he had vanquished. He twirled his sword around in his fingers before shouldering it. He did indeed feel stronger. Better than he was before. He glanced to the side and saw a knight, wearing a helm that looked like a spitting dragon and holding a massive mace that was bigger than he was. The stranger was sitting down, clearly content with leaving the Unkindled One be. So the Champion of Ash extended the courtesy to him and kept walking towards the church before him. Forcing the doors open, he saw a lift with a pressure pad.

"Well, this is easy," he grinned and kept walking.

Just as he was about halfway to the elevator, it rose up. He stopped mid-step and stared up toward the rising slap of wood and rope. He looked down to where it had been resting a moment ago, and less than a second later, a second pad occupied the space, and on it was a man wearing armor that made him think of onions. This one didn't notice him like the first, even though he was right in front of him. The Champion of Ash gritted his teeth.

"Hmm... Mmmmmm..." He was lost in thought. The Unkindled One's irritation vanished instantly. "Hmm... Mmm..."

"Hey? Excuse me, hello?" The Irithyll native waved his free hand, thus catching the other's attention.

"Oh! Pardon me, I was absorbed in thought."

 _Really? I didn't notice._ The Ashen One sarcastically thought.

"I am Siegward of Catarina. To be honest, I'm in a bit of a pickle. Have you ever walked near a white birch, only to be struck by a great arrow?"

The Champion nodded. He did most certainly get struck by arrows the size of javelins.

Siegward continued. "Well, if I'm not mistaken, they come from this tower. Whoever it is, I'm sure I can talk some sense into them."

"That makes sense to me."

"But I have to find a way up, and that's just the trouble. This lift only goes down, you see, and... Well, that doesn't get me anywhere... Hmm... Mmm..."

"That is indeed a conundrum." He wasn't being facetious or sarcastic. It was a genuine puzzle.

Siegward began to talk to himself rather than his present company. "This lift only goes down, but you know... With a little warming up, eventually... No, no... I've got to use my head. And think. Hmm... Mmm..."

The Unkindled thought for a second when something dawned on him. "Wait, only goes down? But... there was a lift right there when I got here, and it went up..."

 **XXXXXX**

For the three watching the fight taking place just outside the Academy, each of them was feeling something different.

The combatants were focused on their brawl. Soul changed his right arm into a scythe blade and charged at the armored man, who had wedged his spear into the ground and was currently using just his hands to fight.

"Oh please," he said with a hint of boredom as he leaned back to dodge Soul's attack, and without missing a beat, swung his arm forward, delivering a solid blow to the Weapon's gut, sending him back with the wind knocked out of him. "Before I left, students your age could at least put up a fight."

"I'll do more than that!" BlackStar prepared a dose of his Soul Wavelength as he too charged forward. "I'll kill you!" The gap was closed. "BlackStar Big Wave!"

The Slayer didn't even try to dodge. The attack met its target, and neither of them moved as the dust settled.

Ornstein chuckled and grabbed the bewildered assassin by the head and effortlessly lifted him into the air. "Bigger things than you have tried to snuff out my light. I've walked this earth since before your ancestors discovered the convenience of the wheel."

As the demigod knight squeezed BlackStar's skull, the ones observing them conversed.

"I hope he doesn't hurt BlackStar too badly!" Tsubaki said with her hand on her heart.

"Don't worry," Stein calmly replied with a smile. "Ornstein knows his own strength. He's had a long time to perfect his strategy."

Maka nodded. "Those two morons don't stand much of a chance, do they? He's not even using his weapon."

Stein looked sideways at her. "Maka. I have a special assignment for you."

She gave him a shocked and confused expression.

"Now now, no need to panic, it is just a simple question. Tell me. What does Ornstein's Soul look like?"

"Oh, uh, okay." The daughter of Lord Death's personal weapon turned her attention to the Dragon Slayer, who tossed BlackStar like a discus, making him collide with Soul. She closed her eyes, focused, and opened them to properly observe his essence.

"His Soul... it's gigantic!" The translucent gold orb around his body could surround a building. Spikes like the ones on his armor outlined it. "And it's ancient..."

The Dragon Slayer didn't notice the student intently staring at his soul as he grabbed the handle of his spear.

"I've had my fill," he said, tightening his grip, making sparks fly off the tip of the blade. "Better things are to be done." He crouched down, balancing himself on his toes and empty hand.

Stein's grin widened. He knew that pose all too well.

BlackStar and Soul gathered themselves just in time to see their foe seemingly glide across the ground towards them, only to stop when the tip of his weapon prodded the amateur assassin's chest, not even breaking the skin.

"Ha! You missed!"

"On the contrary..." Ornstein willed his Faith to come forth, and sent out a massive bolt of lightning, right into BlackStar.

Tsubaki could not help but flinch. It reminded her of what Stein had done to her partner when they had first met. She covered her mouth as BlackStar screeched and collapsed.

With one down, Ornstein leaned forward and swung his weapon to the side, hooking the white-haired student on the side grips near the blade. Without ceasing momentum, the Slayer swung him up, over, and headfirst into the ground. Soul let out a moan, barely staying awake as Ornstein stepped over him and raised a foot. More electricity sparked off his boot, and he stomped on Soul, sending shockwaves into him.

"Well, that was fun I suppose," the Slayer shrugged and walked towards his old cohort as his two opponents twitched on the ground. "Good to see you again, Franken. So, both of us have returned, and at the same time."

"That's too big to be a mere coincidence," Stein stood up and shook hands with the knight.

"Certainly not. It is time."

"Time for what?" Tsubaki asked.

Stein turned to her and Maka, who was no longer gazing at Ornstein's Soul. "Perhaps formal introductions are in order. Maka, Tsubaki, this is Sir Ornstein. He used to teach here before he left."

"Pleasure to meet you," the towering man bowed to them.

"What did you teach, exactly?" Maka inquired.

"Combat, and if the student is willing, Miracles. And judging by the current batch..." He looked over his shoulder to the heaps that were BlackStar and Soul. "... Things have gone soft. Peace does that, I suppose."

Stein shrugged at the theory. "So did you just stop by to pummel the students?"

"Not at all. The Fire is fading. Chaos will soon root itself. So I have returned to resume my old post."

"So wait..." Maka tried to process the part she understood. " **You're** going to be teaching us too?" This was getting to be too much for her. Stein came off of a maniac, and now this giant was going to be beating them into the ground on a regular basis?

"Aye. Which means a lot of speech patterns are going to get repetitive."

That random bit of information completely baffled the Scythe Meister. However Tsubaki let out a giggle. "I get it. Orn **stein**."

The Dragon Slayer nodded. "Nice to see humor is still alive and well."

 **XXXXXX**

Rest was a pleasure Anri had seldom enjoyed since she and Horace had taken up their journey. So this moment of relaxation was one she would take with the utmost appreciation.

Currently, she sat on a rock while her unspeaking companion stood with his arms crossed, scanning the horizon, making sure the Corvians back on the Road of Sacrifices did not follow them into the destroyed fortress the two knights had stopped in.

Suddenly, screeching filled the air. Something had riled up the natives, it seemed. Up the stone steps towards the start of the Road, clanging of steal and screaming continued, getting closer to them. Horace reached for his weapon, but stopped when he saw what exactly was coming towards them. It was a knight, in oddly familar looking armor, letting out a sound that was either shouting or sobbing and falling down the stairs like a puppet with its strings cut. Every time his head collided with the ground, he let out a groan or yelp.

Finally, he came to a stop right in front of the spot Horace and Anri had lit a fire a few minutes ago. His face was in the ground and legs were in the air. He let out a muffled groan as his body went flat on the earth. He pushed himself up and dusted himself off, not even noticing them for a moment.

The Ashen One wiped the earth off himself, grumbling under his breath. "... don't even antagonize them and what do they do?" His musings were silence by a friendly female voice.

"Oh hello. How do you do?"

He stopped with the metal on metal brushing and finally took into account that he wasn't alone. Not by a long shot. That voice... it reminded him of a warm, safe place. Turning his head, he saw two knights looking right back at him. "Oh, thank goodness," he said with relief as he fully turned to them. "Finally, people that **don't** want to kill me." He gave them a bow.

"I am Anri of Astora. Unkindled, like you."

"It is a genuine pleasure and privilege to meet you." He smiled warmly behind his helmet, not really concerned with just how she knew he was Unkindled. She was Ash, just like him. Somewhere deep within, he felt a sense of relief, of no longer being so alone.

"This is Horace. A friend and travelling companion."

"Pleased to meet you as well," the Ashen One said to the other knight, who let out a gagged breath in response. The Unkindled One tilted his head. "Uh... huh."

"Are you too in search of the Lords of Cinder?" Anri asked, making him refocus on her.

"Ah yes. That is my duty, apparently."

"We are well along the road of sacrifices. Below us is the Crucifixion Woods. Beyond the flooded woods lies Farron Keep, home of the Undead Legion."

"My my my. We all certainly have quite a way to go." He shifted himself. This woman sent a coolness down his spine. A pleasant, soothing sensation, he had to admit.

Anri nodded and continued. "Further yet is the Cathedral of the Deep. We seek the cathedral, home of the grim Aldrich. We may go our separate ways now, but we are both seekers of lords. The next time we cross paths, one may find the other in a time of need. May the flames guide your way."

"May they guide you as well. And you too, Horace."

 **XXXXXX Three Days Later XXXXXX**

Italy. Maka and Soul, out for an extracurricular lesson, finished the task given to them by their superiors.

"Can I ask you something?" Maka watched as her partner swallowed their target, Sonson J's soul. "Do souls taste good? You seem to really like them."

"Yeah they're delicious." He grinned. "They don't really have a flavor, but the texture, the feeling of them going down is heavenly." He let out a satisfied breath and turned on his heels. "Anyway, we're done here so let's back back. I'll go get the bike."

"Wait a second."

The Weapon looked back at his partner, who was staring at a church not to far away. "That building..."

"Didn't you lecture me earlier on how we aren't here to sightsee?"

"It's not that. I sense something. But there's so much noise." She focused and concentrated. "I'm sensing the souls of a Meister and a Weapon, with a horde of humans around them. I think it's those men who tried to pick a fight with us earlier."

"Those jerks? Who cares what happens to them?" He turned to leave but Maka's words stopped him.

"I don't like them any more than you do, Soul, but they're still human. It's not like their souls have become Kishin eggs."

"Ah just leave them be. It's Saturday night after all. Maybe they just got a little fever going."

She looked at him, unamused. "This isn't the time to make jokes or shirk responsibility! If something bad happens because we ignore it..."

"Okay, okay. I'll go get the bike."

As they rode towards the church, the roar of the engine wasn't quite able to drown out the Bells atop their destination. Just as the reached the place of worship, the Bells stopped as soon as they came to a halt.

Maka looked to the doors, attempting to sense the inhabitants.

"What? No, that's impossible!" She got off the bike and ran to the building.

"Maka, what is it?" Soul too got off the motorcycle and stepped up behind her.

"All of them... all the human souls... just gone."

She reached for the door, and stopped. A foreboding feeling swooped over her. Some sort of warning to just walk away... but she couldn't! As a Meister for the DWMA, it was her duty to uncover what had happened to all those souls. She forced the door open.

On the far side of the church was thick black fog, and standing in front of it was... someone. They had pink hair, wore black church garbs, and it was difficult to determine their gender, even after hearing their voice.

"The doors... they only open inward."

An authorative sounding voice boomed throughout the cathedral. "Yes, inward. You have completed your task, Crona, of collecting those souls, but you still lack the strength for what your mother plans for you."

"Maka be on guard, I have a bad feeling about this," Soul warned as the outline of a massive figure started to appear in the fog.

"Soon you will be strong enough to where these pathetic children will serve no threat to you." The foggy figure's words reverberated throughout the building as it got closer to the edge of the fog. "She has decided to grant you mercy child, and asked me to repay a favor by retreiving you after your original task was complete."

"But I don't know how to deal with her mercy," Crona complained as the fifth occupant of the room finally exited the fog and the DWMA students finally got to see the appearance behind the echoing voice.

The figure was definitely at least three times the height of Maka and was wearing what appeared to be some sort of ceremonial robes with some peculiar looking jewelry. The face of the man was hidden behind a mask with a design similar to roots that extened until it reached a golden crown. The most distinguishing thing about the individual was the bracelet wearing hands that each held a greatsword, one aflame and the other emitting what Maka thought was purple mist.

"Your coping mechanism that you use for your mother's escapades is none of my concern." The dual greatsword wielder stated as he planted the smaller of the blades into the ground. "I have fulfilled my bargain and shall get you out of harm's way before such a valuable pawn ends up being broken." As soon as he said that last word, the giant lifted Crona with his free hand before throwing him through the fog with little to no effort. As soon as the pinkette was in the fog, it disapated for the time being. His task complete, he freed his sword from the floor

Maka was watching the massive swordsman, trying to read him but the moment she tried gazing into his soul she just froze.

"What's wrong Maka? You can't just lock up now." Soul warned as he tried to snap Maka out of her confusion.

"His soul. It's... gigantic," the shocked meister said as their possible attacker turned towards the students. If what she saw existed on the physical plain, his soul would have pressed against every wall of the Cathedral.

"I don't think that matters right now," Soul replied as the figure took a step towards them, readying his massive blades.

"It has been many years since I killed a disciple of Death. It was quite a pleasuring experience. Now allow me to teach you why I, Pontiff Sulyvahn, was once considered among the most dangerous of threats to your Lord Death. Today my judgement will be passed onto these foolish students of Death," the sorcerer from Ariandel proclaimed with finality as he slowly yet menacingly walked towards the Meister and Weapon.


	5. Heresy

**Chapter Five: Heresy**

 **XXXXXX**

"Why lock a door in a sewer? What could be down here?" the Ashen One climbed over a now-deceased rat, which had to be the size of a carriage, and approached a door. Backtracking had not been part of the plan (if he even had a plan to begin with) but the shrine maiden had presented him with a key, and a little voice in his head began shouting 'DO IT!' over and over until he accepted it. Now there he was, in a filthy waterway (not that he minded. After all, he regularly found himself coated with blood) going deeper into the darkness. The light was seeping through, but it was far from optimal. He let out a sigh full of irritation, wishing he had brought a torch. Not ten paces in, the tunnel broke off, one going left, and the other right.

He didn't have to debate long on which to take, as choosing right would have led him to a statue and dead end. Walking up to the crafted stone, the Ashen One took in its details. It was a hooded woman surrounded by headstones. Her right hand held a book to her chest, and the left out out the side in a gesture that suggested she was offering a spot next to her. The Ashen One knew that she was a deity, yet he couldn't place a name. Part of him wondered why he remembered the name of Gwyn, and yet this one escaped him.

Deciding that standing around wasn't exactly all that productive, he turned around began down the other way. As he ventured deeper, the light diminished. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness. A few lit torches were fixated to pillar along the passages. Someone had to have been down there recently; the fires could not have lit themselves. The Champion of Ash found relief in that; at least he was going somewhere not completely deserted. With newfound light, he found that the ground was littered with bones. Random pieces scattered up and down the earthen hall. Just how many corpses had been down here?

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of something rustling. Turning around, he saw a femur rolling away out of the light and into the shadows. He was fairly certain he had not made physical contact with it. So why was it moving? In the close blackness, he could hear something his ears had never picked up before. When it stopped, something stepped out of the shadows. It was a fully reassembled skeleton hold a sword, and even though it had no lips, the Ashen One could tell it was grinning wickedly.

Grabbing his own frosty sword, he unsheathed and gripped it with a vice. "Okay."

 **XXXXXX**

Soul really wished Maka had done as he wanted and left for home. While he was never one to back away from a fight, the Pontiff was like a stone wall. His size alone made defence an arduous task, and his attacks flowed into each other, almost never leaving an opening.

"If you are what Meisters pass as in these days," the holy behemoth said as he slashed as them, forcing Maka to jump back. "Then your precious Academy will be crushed under my heel."

The threat only served to increase Maka's resolve.

"In your dreams," Soul fired back as his partner tightened her grip on him.

"Impertinent child," Sulyvahn scoffed. "You cannot _begin_ to comprehend my aspirations."

Maka frantically tried to think up a strategy. The Pontiff certainly outclassed her in terms of strength and reach. But speed... He never moved faster than a walk, as if this fight was akin to a night in the park.

"Gnats," Sulyvahn said as she swung at him, only for his greatsword to deflect the attack. Capitalizing, he swung down with his other blade, narrowly missing the girl and driving it into the floor. Seeing the opening, Maka seized it and swung, cutting through his robes and, as far as she could tell, his flesh.

Pain. The sensation had been absent for sometime in the sorceror's life, but he recognized it as all sentients did. Letting out a bestial growl, he pried his sword from the floor and raised both it and the other blade over his armored head.

"Move!" Soul hastily warned.

The self-proclaimed Pontiff swung down hard, but Maka dodge just in time. Not about to repeat his mistake, Sulyvahn began to move with a considerably higher amount of grace. No long did he simply traipse.

Maka gathered her breath as a most unwelcome sight beheld her. No longer was speed her advantage. Sulyvahn seemed to glide across the floor, her eyes only managing to keep him in her vision.

"How can a guy that big move like that?" Soul asked.

Maka didn't offer an answer. She prepared as he advanced on them. As he raised his weapon, so did she, ready to intercept. He brought the fiery sword down, colliding with the joint of Soul's blade and handle, and simultaneously drove his cursed sword forward, gliding it along her side and putting it through her coat.

Quickly seeing that both his swords were occupied, Maka instinctively looked down to see if he had carved into her flesh. He had not, but that had been his intention. Releasing his grib on the cursed sword, he grabbed the Demon Weapon's shaft and channeled dark magic, granting his young foe pain.

Soul's screams brought Maka's full attention back up front, and met eyes (in a sense) with Sulyvahn. She could have sworn she saw his eyes shimmering behind his face protector.

"Let the Dark consume you!" He said, lifting her and Soul up by his handle, and tossed them across the room.

Pain rang up and down Maka's spine. She groaned and kept her fingers wrapped around her Weapon. Looking at Soul she felt fear. Not for herself, but for him. Purple and black veins scattered around him, especially his blade, pulsating in rhythm.

"Are you alright?!" She asked desperately.

"Hurts." The strain in his voice was as clear as the night sky outside. Slowly, the unwelcome coloration faded. "Little better."

Sulyvahn recollected his glowing sword. The spell he had used was a short-term one, but it did its job. He flexed his fingers, testing to see if his hand was completely back.

"Maka..." Soul gathered himself, attempting to ignore the lingering pain. "I think it's time for Witch Hunter."

His Meister didn't like the idea of taxing him right after that horrific magic. "But, Soul-"

"You got a better idea? I can handle it!"

Across the cavernous church, the leader of the Deep was ready to once more combat the students. Returning to a proper stance, he made to return his sight on the soon to be gone disciples of Death, and two most unwanted words filled the air.

"Soul Resonance!"

The sorcerer hated those words being put together. He was unamused as the Weapon's blade grew to irrational size and glowed like a star. The girl let out a shout as she swung, sending an arc of magic right at him. He barely could have reacted before it sliced into him. He screamed as the agony made itself known to his chest and face while the force of it all sent him sliding back and onto his knees.

Seeing the tall freak show fatigue, Soul felt positive for the first time since they had stepped inside. "Finally, we're doing some real damage!"

Maka nodded in agreement.

Sulyvahn coughed. He had vastly underestimated these children. Well, no longer would he amuse himself in this fight. He began to gather up magic from within.

Maka lunged forward, scythe above her head, and brought her scythe down on the Pontiff's head.

Rather than slicing his cranium in half, a burst of blackness came from him, sending her back. Maka wound up landing on her feet, but her lungs were empty from the attempt. Blinking a few times to clear her blurry vision, the Meister saw a thick black fog not unlike the patch from earlier had surrounded the self-described holy man. As it dissipated, she found that he had sprouted black wings; they reminded her of tree branches.

"I've had my fill of you," Sulyvahn stated as he brought up the sword in his left hand up to his face, summoning another wave of Dark magic.

"Yeah sure!" Soul retorted confidently as Maka made to charge towards Sulyvahn once again. "You mean you're sick of losing!"

Another burst of unsavory energy sprung out around the Pontiff, only this time as far as either Maka or Soul could tell, nothing had changed about him. And then he stepped to the side.

Something occupied the spot he had been in.

Another Pontiff Sulyvahn.

As the shock subsided, the DWMA students realized it wasn't exactly a complete copy. The second one had all the original's features, including the wings and swords, but it was almost transparent and had a sickly shade of purple.

Undeterred, Maka ran forward and brought Soul across the geist. Rather than cutting into it, the scythe just passed throgh it like water.

Because she was occupied with his backup, and the helm concealing the real Sulyvahn's face, she didn't see the strain on his visage her attack had made.

The copy slashed at her, cutting her sleeve and arm, making blood drip onto the floor. She couldn't hurt it, but it could certainly harm her. Two enemies were one had been too much. Maka didn't know what to do. She blocked an overhead strike from both of them, their blades striking Soul's curve together. The force felt like it was breaking her legs.

"Aldrich shall enjoy feasting upon you," the original said as he kept her stuck where she stood. The copy utilized its wings and took to the air. It stayed suspended for roughly a second before coming back down with force. Bringing both itself and the larger of its swords into the ground, a massive wave of fire burst out from It. Maka and Soul could feel the heat encompass them; it was like stepping in a volcano. With the real Pontiff keeping them in place, Maka didn't have the strength to escape. They couldn't help but scream.

"I think I'll keep your Weapon, child," Sulyvahn wickedly mused. "He will make an exemplary Outrider."

Before any of them could do anything more, the doors behind Maka flew open, and a bolt of lightning came soaring in, striking the sorcerer directly in the face. As he reared back in pain, Maka finally felt relief as his weight got off Soul. Her legs felt like they were melting and her coat was emitting smoke. Turning her head, her relief could not have been overstated. Stepping through the doorway with the tip of his spear still letting off sparks marched Ornstein. And right behind him, Profesor Stein holding what could only be her worthless father in his Death Scythe form.

"Your Holiness," Spirit sarcastically address Sulyvahn, his voice echoing from the ebony blade. "Would you be so kind to get away from my daughter?"

The leader of the Deep only panted as he clutched his head. His copy stood motionless with its host's concentration broken.

The Dragon Slayer pointed his weapon at the swordsman. "I knew it was only a matter of time before you crawled out of your hole. Aldrich might turn his sights on you if his trough starts getting light."

Stein gestured for Maka to back away from Sulyvahn, which she did without question. Bringing hundred hand up to his head, he gave his screw a few turns. "I wonder if I'll discover the secrets of your longevity when I cut you open, Pontiff."

Shaking off the electricity, Sulyvahn reinforced his control over his phantom and both readied themselves. He was worse for wear and outnumbered. It was time to depart.

"Enjoy this moment, followers of Death," he said as his copy again took to the air. And sure enough it again landed hard and let out a wall of fire, keep the oppostion away for those precious seconds. Behind it, Sulyvahn began to fade in a black fog.

With no host to feed it purpose, the fake Sulyvahn fell to its knees and dissipated into nothing.

With the threat gone, the two Demon Weapons returned to their human form.

"Maka! Are you alright?" Spirit asked with concern only a parent could feel as he lowered himself to be level with his child.

"I'm... fine," she answered, avoiding his eyes.

"The same cannot be said for your Weapon," Ornstein said as he and Stein observed the remnants of Sulyvahn's magic on Soul. It was obvious the scythe was in pain, and the violet webbing across his flesh was evidence enough.

"We should get him to the infirmary immediately," the stitch-covered teacher said firmly.

"Agreed. The Pontiff might return with some of his followers."

 **XXXXXX**

The Champion of Ash let out a nonsensical noise of triumph as he climbed a ladder, leaving behind a horde of rabid vermin and reanimated bones below in the dark. He was all too happy to leave it behind. Reaching the top, he found an archway that, like the entrance, split off two ways. To the left was salvation. Outside once more! And to the right...

A woman, draped in white and tan garments. "Ahh, who's there?" She asked, looking up. "Is someone there, anyone?"

The Unkindled was at a loss. He was directly in her line of sight, and yet he may as well have been invisible.

She continued. "The dark surrounds me, nibbles at my flesh. Little creatures, they never stop biting."

That threw him for a loop momentarily. It wasn't dark by any means around her, and there certainly were not any "little creatures" on her. Then it struck him. Like the Fire Keeper, she was blind.

She again spoke. "Please, hold out your hand, and touch me..."

He didn't need to think about his next course of action. Coming up to her, he knelt and gently placed his armored hand on her shoulder.

"Ahh, yes, there you are, so close indeed. Then I am not entirely alone, just yet."

"No," he assured her. "You're not."

"Praise the merciful gods above..." The Unkindled removed his hand from her and stood up. "Oh, forgive me. I am Irina of Carim."

"No need to ask for forgiveness. I... don't recall my name, but I hail from Irithyll."

"Oh my. Then we both are far from home. I came to this land so that I might be a Fire Keeper. Your touch has freed me from the darkness. You are a Champion, then?"

"Uh, yes," he said unevenly. _How is it everyone knows that but me?_

"I am weak, and unfit to tend the flames. But if it would not trouble you, might I enter into your service, instead?"

 _This again?_ he thought with concern as he remembered Yoel. The Pilgrim had begged death itself to take him before the Unkindled happened upon him. Now the Londor native was content with his lot in life. Perhaps...

"I... accept your offer, Irina."

"Oh, thank you, sweet Champion. I shall take my vows."

"Vows?" The Champion of Ash echoed as his newest associate began to glow.

"I, Irina of Carim, solemnly swear to serve you." When her words had finished, she too vanished like Yoel had.

The Ashen One stared at the spot she had occupied not a moment ago, and quickly turned in his heels towards the steel cell gate that led outside. Opening it, he took in a deep breath. The smell of surrounding death from the settlement was scarcely better then the sewer, but better nonetheless.

"You've gone and rescued her, have you?" A jaded voice asked from the right. The Champion looked over and saw that the knight with the dragon helm he had so readily left alone days ago was still in the exact same spot. "How very quaint, pitying creatures that are beyond help."

Sixteen words, and already the Unkindled decided he did not like this knight.

"Very well. I'm sick of looking after her at any rate. I am Eygon, a knight of Carim. I am allied to you as long as you assure the girl's safety. And only for that long..."

"I understand." The Ashen One said in a tone with obvious negativity as he crushed a Homeward Bone in his fingers.

Everything became a haze for a moment, and then there he was, standing next to the Fire Keeper.

"Welcome home, Ashen One," she greeted.

"Salutations, Fire Keeper," he replied with a friendly tone before turning off to greet Yoel.

The Pilgrim was in his usual isolated corner, and upon seeing the Ashen One, eased himself. "Oh, our Champion of Ash, welcome back. I would do anything for my master, just say the word."

 _Our Champion? And still with that "master" talk?_ the Unkindled pondered internally. He had the strangest feeling that he was missing something. Another puzzle piece to add to the pile. Getting a metallic taste in his mouth, the Ashen One turned himself and spit out a mouth of blood before returning to the conversation. "Can you still do that "drawing true strength" ritual?"

With more and more people rallying, he could not afford to be weak.

To his relief, Yoel nodded.

"Shall we begin?" He asked eagerly, offering a hand. The Unkindled took up the offer.

The ordeal only took a few seconds, but its results were the same as the last two times they had partaken in it. The Unkindled felt stronger, but that wasn't the only effect of it. He found that each time Yoel drew out whatever was inside him, the voices that came from his rings grew more and more quiet. Right now they were hardly a whisper. That side effect was one he was happy to have.

The rings...

He looked at them, and they looked back, mumbling to him but he drilled them out as he tried to recall how he had gotten them. Where Irithyll was. And why he had been buried in a full set of armor. He grit his teeth and dug his armored fingers into his scalp, forcing his thoughts to go back as far as they could. But it was fruitless. He sat down and put his back on the wall.

"You wouldn't happen to have a spell that can lift the fog from my memories, would you, Yoel?"

"Forgive me, Champion of Ash. I do not." He paused in deep thought. "But I think I can scrounge up something that might help."

 **XXXXXX**

Deep within a more untouched part of the Earth stood a Cathedral unlike any other. It was the size of a decent city and was occupied a very motley assortment. Giants, zombies, thrall slaves, hulking knights, countless Deacons, and even a lost goddess could be found in its walls. In the deepest chamber was a massive coffin, one specially designed for the Saint of the Deep faith. But Aldrich was not in his resting place. No, in fact the entire chamber was deserted save for Pontiff Sulyvahn, or so he thought.

The recently bested Pontiff leaned on the stone sarcophagus, catching his breath. He did not like the feeling of defeat.

"Enjoying the splendid taste of failure? Finally seeing just how below invincible you are?" Someone asked. The sorcerer looked up and saw his most recent acquaintance had somehow made his way into the haven for the Deep with that a massive crude slab of titanite that barely passed for a sword.

"You dare insult me, Raime?" He had no patience for this today.

"I like to think of it as casting light on you illusions."

"Why, you-!"

"Now now, boys. No reason to fight," a seductive voice filled the air and echoed off the walls.

The Tyrant of the Boreal Valley felt something move along his foot. Looming down, he was repulsed to see a black snake hiss at him before slithering towards the Fume Knight. Up it went, along his armored leg, torso, and finally shoulder, upon which was another familiar face. Medusa Gorgon grinned at him as the serpent evaporated into her.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Sulyvahn asked with a neutral tone. He did not like either person before him, but they had done both him and the entire Deep a great service. That alone was why he had agreed to the Witch's so-called favor.

Medusa put on a grin that was absolutely wicked. "Are you interested in extending this partnership? I have big plans for the future, Pontiff. Very big plans..."


End file.
